


Pretty in Peacock Feathers

by sassy_cissa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-18
Updated: 2013-12-18
Packaged: 2018-01-02 18:38:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1060192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassy_cissa/pseuds/sassy_cissa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's in hell. Hermione's in heaven. Just exactly how does Draco fit into this picture?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretty in Peacock Feathers

**Author's Note:**

> mayfly_78 - I was a bit intimidated to have you as my recipient. I love your art and wanted to create something special for you. I managed to get white peacocks at least mentioned along with some banter and a bit of Narcissa and Hermione. I hope you enjoy this, I really had fun with it. Ten million kinds of thanks to my fabulous beta, who once again held my hand, fixed my POV errors and made it a better story. Also thanks to my mystery artist for the tiny bit of art in the story. Finally thank you to the hd_erised mods who were extremely patient.

Harry was certain he was in hell. Not the fire and brimstone, flames licking at your soul Muggle kind of hell. Not even the hell of Voldemort winding his way through your mind and showing you things that you couldn’t imagine in your worst nightmares. No, this was a special kind of hell. One that came from paying more attention to the football match on the telly and not nearly enough to the babblings of your best friend. It resulted in your spending the last three hours in a bridal shop watching Hermione try on what seemed to be an endless parade of dresses.

He opened one eye and was immediately assaulted by the glaring white that surrounded him. Just as he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to find a _happy place_ he heard the distinct clip of heels and swish of fabric. He quickly opened both eyes, praying he was fast enough to beat Hermione’s eagle-eye. No such luck.

"Harry James Potter!" Hermione said sharply. "Are you sleeping?"

"Of course not," he said, doing his best not to yawn. "Right here, ready to help." He looked closely at her and wrinkled his nose. "Well that's certainly…a lot of dress." He tried not to cry as his hopes of this being the last wedding gown Hermione would try on were dashed.

Hermione looked down and sighed. The dress was very fitted, and the fabric from the bust to the ground was ruched. 

"Why's it all—" Harry searched for the right word, "—wrinkley?"

The bridal shop clerk rushed in, giving Harry a look of disdain. "It's called ruching. It's all the rage these days," she assured Hermione. "Turn so he can see the back, it's to die for."

Hermione slowly turned so Harry could see the back of the dress. 

He stared, eyes wide as saucers. "Well something certainly died for it. Are those peacock feathers on your arse?"

Looking over her shoulder at him, Hermione nodded, then burst into a fit of giggles. "Oh Merlin," she said between chuckles. "It really is quite hideous, isn't it?"

"It's one of our top sellers," the clerk sniffed. 

Harry's gaze moved from Hermione to the clerk and back again. "No disrespect, ma'am, but I don't think this is the dress for her." He waited for Hermione to step carefully down from the podium. "Go change. I think we've seen enough for today."

Hermione sighed, but nodded her agreement. "I’ll be right back."

When she came out of the dressing room, Harry could tell she was disappointed that she hadn't found the perfect wedding dress.

****

"I have just what you need," Harry proclaimed, setting a large, frothy mug on the table. "A large toffee nut caramel, white mocha double blended with extra whipped cream and caramel drizzle." He looked at her expectantly. "Did I get any of that right?"

Hermione laughed and picked up the cup to take a sip. "Close enough. What are you having?"

"After your order I was afraid to ask for anything other than a hot chocolate with extra whipped cream."

They sat silently for several minutes, until Harry couldn't stand the weight that hung in the air between them.

"You'll find the perfect dress, Hermione," he said, gently tapping her foot under the table. "Maybe you need someone else to shop with you."

"You're my best friend. No one knows me better than you," Hermione said quickly. "Who else will tell me if a dress is too _wrinkley_?"

Harry laughed. "I suppose it just goes to show that gay does not equal good taste in women's clothes." He shrugged. "Who knew it was 'all the rage?', " he said in a nearly perfect imitation of the clerk.

"Oh I knew you had horrible taste when I asked you," Hermione said absently. At Harry's wry look, she clasped her hands over her mouth. "I didn't mean that like it sounded."

"Yes you did and it's fine. We both know it's the truth." He took a sip of his hot chocolate. "So as long as we're being honest, how about you tell me why you asked me and not…oh I don't know, Luna, to help you on the hunt for the perfect dress."

Hermione looked affronted. "I asked you because despite the fact that you wear black shoes with brown trousers, you're the one person who will be honest with me about how I look." She sighed. "I just want everything to be perfect."

"I know you do," he said patting her hand, "and it will be. Once you find the dress everything will fall into place, right?"

Hermione sat silently, looking into her coffee mug.

"Hermione? What is it you're not telling me?" Harry's brow furrowed. "Oh crap! You're not backing out are you?"

She swatted him playfully. "No. It's just…" She paused. "Nevermind, you'll think it's silly."

Harry tilted his head and stared at her over the rims of his glasses. 

She fidgeted in her seat. "It's just. Well, I read an article in _Witch Weekly_ about this wedding dress designer who's appeared on the scene recently. Mostly in France. Anyway he's said to be new and innovative and yet his designs run toward classic and elegant." 

"So we'll go to France if we have to and we'll get this bloke to design you a dress," Harry said matter-of-factly.

Hermione shook her head. "That's the thing. The article wasn't allowed to print his name or to show any of his designs."

"Well that's pretty stupid. How in the world are you supposed to find him? He can't have much business that way."

"You have to be referred to him by someone he knows or someone who has used him. The article also said he does it because it's what he loves to do, not because he needs the money." She frowned slightly. "That's also the reason his clientele are extremely closed mouthed about him. To keep him exclusive."

Harry felt as if a shade had been lifted and everything was clear. "So you didn't really drag me along today for my honesty. You dragged me along so you could tell me about this guy and I could offer to find him for you." He kicked her, not so gently under the table. "Next time, I beg of you, just ask. Don't ever put me through this again."

"If you find this magic designer, I suspect you'll have to be the one to go with me, you know," Hermione said with a grin. 

Harry moaned as his head hit the table.

****

Draco stepped back and eyed the set up critically. "Too much bouquet, for fuck's sake! We want to showcase the dress, not bloody peacock feathers!" He pinned a look at the woman in the dress and glared. "Was it your brilliant idea to carry a bouquet nearly as tall as you are?"

Pansy sniffed. "As if I'd agree to anything this plebian and ostentatious. I simply said it would be amusing to use peacock feathers in the bouquet and suddenly the twat with the bad dye job foisted it on me." She used the enormous bouquet to point at the quivering woman. "And by the way what we want to showcase are the tits." 

Draco rolled his eyes as he stormed over and began to pull feathers and leaves out of the bouquet. When he finished it no longer covered Pansy from chest to knees, but was a respectable size and much more classic shape.

Pansy turned, looking at her reflection in the mirror. "I love the lace, but don't you think the bodice needs to be tighter…," she tilted her head, "and lower? It's positively Victorian, Draco!" 

"Oh for fuck's sake, Pans! It's not Victorian when the back's cut down practically to the crack in your arse! Leave a few of your attributes to the imagination. Not to mention that both of our mother's will disembowel me with a rusty spoon if they think you look like a slut."

Pansy winced. "Lovely image, Draco." She sighed dramatically. "I suppose we'll have to leave the tit display to Blaise's mother. We'll be lucky if she's sober enough to remember to put a dress on over her lingerie."

Draco laughed. "Sasha, mark it down to take the bodice in on each side about a quarter of an inch. That should make it fit perfectly and still keep the line fluid." He raised a finger in the air, twirling it until Pansy obeyed and began to move. "How is the _black widow_? Working on victim, oh sorry, husband number nine yet?"

Pansy shook her head. "Not as far as we know." She stopped when she was facing Draco, her eyes glinting. "But you'll never guess who was seen in several wedding boutiques in Muggle and wizarding London recently." She batted her eyelashes. "Never guess in a million years."

"You gave it away with _Muggle_. Had to be Granger and the Weasel."

"You're half right," Pansy teased.

"Before I'm old, Parkinson," Draco grumbled. "I can only hope she's wised up before it's too late and realized that the Weasel is far too stupid for her. She can do much better."

"And has. Tossed out the third wheel and went right for the other part of the Golden Trio."

Draco stopped mid step. "Potter?"

"The one and only. My sources tell me they were in and out of several bridal salons and he was extremely attentive to her."

"Oh pish. If they were getting married, why would Potter be helping to pick out the gown?" Draco ran a hand over his hair.

Pansy grinned wickedly. "Who knows what odd customs those Muggles have? Maybe it's their way."

Draco shook his head. "No, it's not. I've done plenty of Muggle brides…"

"Oh have you?" Pansy said dryly. "Batting for both teams now?"

"You," Draco shot back, "are a bitch. Be careful stepping out of that dress. Christ you could take an eye out with those needles you're wearing." He helped Sasha lift the dress, carefully putting it on the hanger and sending his assistant to the back. "Put a fucking robe on, Pans, no one in here, especially me, wants to see all that on display."

Pansy lifted a robe off a hook and slid it on. "And I don't care what you say. Potter and Granger are as thick as thieves and something is up there." She looked negligently at her blood red nails. "I imagine that will put an end to your favourite wanking fantasy, darling."

"There's a word for you," he shot back as he stormed from the room. "And it rhymes with hunt!"

****

Harry looked around the corner to make certain no one would see him heading into the International Magical Office of Business with a large box of Honeydukes under his arm.

Attempting a casual gait, he sauntered over to the receptionist's desk. "Agatha! You're looking absolutely radiant!" Harry gushed. "Have you done something new with your hair?"

Agatha, who was one hundred and twenty if she was a day, looked at Harry over the rims of her unstylish glasses. "Really, Mr Potter? An Auror of your rank attempting to charm an old witch like me?"

Harry felt his cheeks heat. "I'm sorry, Agatha." He gave her his most winning smile. "I should have known better than to try to pull one over on you." He set the box of chocolates on the desk. "So I imagine that I shouldn't leave these here."

Agatha slapped a hand on the box as Harry made to pull it away. "Let's not get hasty, boy. After all you must need something very important to come down here for it rather than sending the requisite form eight-nine-nine dash P. And I suspect a bit personal also." She grinned widely, a look Harry decided made her look like a Cheshire cat, before folding her hands atop the box of chocolates.

"I'm looking for some information on a business in France," Harry began. 

Agatha looked pointedly at him. "And it didn't occur to you to simply try the International Business Directory in the Auror Department?" She shook her head and mumbled, "It's no wonder I get so many requests, people far too lazy to simply look something up." 

"But I did look it up. It's not there."

"Well of course it's there," she countered. "Every business has a listing. Now you just go back up and look for it."

"Look, I know I'm not supposed to do this, but it's for my best friend. She wants this one designer for her wedding dress and he's got this exclusive shop. And there's no way to find out their address without an invitation..."

Agatha perked up. "Oh my, one of _those_ shops. We don't issue very many licenses of that type. What kind of shop did you say it was?"

"A bridal shop. I have reason to believe it's in France. At least I think it's in France," he replied hopefully.

Agatha waved her wand and a thin, gold covered book floated to her desk. "I should be able to provide all the information you need." 

She opened the book and began to scan by running a gnarled finger down the page. Harry could see she was nearing the last few entries when she became still. 

"Hmmmm," she murmured. "Interesting, very interesting."

"Is the information there?"

"Yes," she said. "It appears that the shop you're looking for is called _Le Paon Blanc_ and is located just off the Avenue des Champs-Élysées. The proprietor is a man named Dimitri Monfort. Not much information on Monfort, but the business seems clean." She scribbled the address on a scrap of parchment. 

Harry held out his hand for the paper. 

"Not so fast," she said with a look that made Harry wonder if she had some stomach issues. "Nothing comes without a price, Mr Potter."

For an instant, Harry had a sinking feeling that she was about to demand a kiss or something equally as revolting, when she laughed.

"My great-grandson is seven and dreams of playing Quidditch at Hogwarts, _just like Harry Potter_."

Harry fought the urge to roll his eyes. 

"If you could just autograph this parchment, I'd be happy to give you the information without the required forms."

Harry signed the parchment, snatching the information from her before she could change her mind or think of something else.

"Thanks, Agatha! I knew I could count on you," he said, rushing out the door. 

Back in his office, he placed a fire-call to Hermione. "I have the information you wanted."

"You do!" Hermione squealed. "That's marvellous. However did you manage to find someone to get an invitation."

"I didn't say I have an invitation," Harry said, frowning. "I have the address of the place. It's called _la pan blank_ or something French like that and it's in Paris. The owner is named Dimitri Monfort."

Hermione's brow furrowed. "Well that's all quite interesting, but it still doesn't get me in the door, now does it?"

Harry felt his hopes crash around him as he looked at his friend's crestfallen look. "I'll get you in, Hermione. I promise."

****

Harry checked the address on the storefront against the parchment Agatha had given him. _Not very impressive from the outside_ he thought and pushed at the door. Nothing happened. He gave it a quick tug. Still nothing. He was about to pull again when a voice crackled from an invisible speaker. "Bonjour, puis-je vous aider?"

"Oh, err," Harry stuttered. "I don't speak French."

The invisible voice gave a small laugh and spoke with a thick accent. "No problem. How may I help you?"

Harry looked around again for some sort of speaker. "This is crazy," he muttered. 

"Pardon?"

"I feel like I'm talking to myself out here. I'd like to come in and speak to someone. Please, it feels odd talking to the door."

After a slight delay, Harry heard a buzzing noise, right before the voice told him to push the door open.

Harry went through the door, taking in the reception area. It was a medium sized room with walls painted a vivid shade of blue. Against one wall there was a white leather sofa and two matching chairs. The reception desk sat across with openings for hallways Harry assumed led to the salon area. He crossed the room, aware that he cut a formidable figure in his formal red Auror robe and knee high black leather boots. He really hated using his notoriety, but forced himself to remember this was for Hermione, even though he really wanted to turn around and leave. 

"Good morning," he said pleasantly. "I'd like to see the proprietor."

"Oh I'm sorry, but monsieur does not meet with just anyone."

"I see. And if you told him Harry Potter, Auror Harry Potter, wished to speak with him…? I'm sorry, your name?"

The pretty blonde behind the counter smiled. "I'm Simone and it's quite an honour to meet your Monsieur Potter. But…"

"Right, monsieur doesn't meet with just anyone." Harry decided to try another approach. "Simone, here's my problem. My best friend is getting married and she read something about this place and now she's decided that no one else can design her wedding gown." He attempted to look pitiful.

"Oh, it is not for your bride?" Simone asked. 

Harry laughed. "Apparently _The Daily Prophet_ 's reach isn't as far as they would hope."

She looked at him with apparent confusion. 

"If I were getting married, I'd be taking my partner for a formal robe fitting," he laughed. "I'm gay."

"Oh! Well that is no matter to me; however it does explain why you are helping your friend with her selection of a wedding gown. But again, I am afraid that no one see's monsieur without an appointment." She held up a hand to stop Harry before he could interrupt. "And no one without an invitation is allowed to make an appointment. Not even Auror Harry Potter."

Harry sighed. "Would it be possible for me to leave my name for him?"

Simone gave him a brilliant smile. "But of course, Monsieur Potter. I will be pleased to let him know you were here."

Harry turned and walked out, never noticing Draco Malfoy standing in the shadows.

****

Draco hurried down the hall, intent on finding out who was trying to get in his salon. He'd been sitting at the design table, working on a sketch when he felt a breach on the wards at the front door. He stopped short when he heard the voice on the intercom system. It may have been almost eight years since he'd last heard it in person, but there was no mistaking that voice. Harry Potter.

It took all his self-control not to rush into the reception area and open the damn door himself. He willed himself to remain still, the whole while chanting _let him in, let him in_ in his head, nearly weeping with relief when he heard the buzz that released the wards.

He watched Harry stride across the lobby, knowing if Pansy had been there she'd have told him to stop drooling. Where late-teen Harry Potter had been easy on the eyes, grown-up Auror Potter was a wet dream walking. Broad shoulders and a trim waist were only accented by the red wool of his uniform. The leather boots only served to make Draco want to press Harry up against the nearest wall and _have his wicked way with him_.

Draco forced himself to pay attention to what Harry was telling Simone. He grinned when it came out that Potter was only trying to help a friend, whom Draco surmised must be Granger. At Harry's admission to being gay, Draco exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. 'Oh course he was,' Draco thought, allowing his memories to transport him back to the last time he'd seen Potter.

_"Come on, Harry," Weasley urged. "You've done more than you needed to for them. Let's go."_

_Harry looked at Narcissa and Draco Malfoy, where they stood outside of the subterranean courtrooms. Potter's testimony had assured that neither Draco nor his mother would be spending any time in Azkaban. But apparently the boy hero wasn't done._

_"Go ahead, Ron," Potter replied, over-sized green eyes on Draco's face. He could feel that stare clear to his toes. "I've something I need to take care of."_

_After much grumbling Weasley left, and Potter walked over to where Draco and Narcissa stood. "Mrs Malfoy," he said, tipping his head politely in way of greeting. "Draco."_

_"Thank you again, Mr Potter," his mother said softly._

_Potter's face flushed. "No need for thanks, I meant every word I said. You literally saved my life with that simple word. But if you don't mind, I'd like to speak with Draco in private."_

_Narcissa nodded and Draco just stared. "You've never called me by my name before," Draco stammered, then felt foolish. Why was it Potter always made him feel like an idiot?_

_"It's time," Potter replied. "Will you come with me? I promise I'm not going to harm you."_

_That never occurred to him, and it was only later that Draco would wonder why it hadn't. He shrugged and followed Potter into an empty chamber._

_"You really don't need to worry," Potter said calmly._

_"I'm not worried."_

_"Right," Potter shook his head ruefully, and Draco started when he reached into his robes. He pulled out Draco's wand and held it out to him._

_"I just figured it was time I give this back to you."_

_Draco looked at Harry as if he'd never seen him before. "But…"_

_"We've got a lot of history between us. But with everything I've been through there's always been one thing that was a constant in my life."_

_"Granger and the Weasel," Draco said with a nod._

_"Well yes, and they had their role. But then there was you." Those eyes, green as gardenia leaves in spring, were glued to his face. "You challenged me. Every day." He took a deep breath. "I'm not saying it was always a good thing, but now that I've had time to look back with a bit more objectivity…"_

_"Why Potter," Draco said, reverting to habit when faced with something he didn't know what to do with, "who knew you had such a vast vocabulary."_

_Potter laughed. "Yep, just like that; you challenged me. But in spite of everything or maybe because of it, I'd like a fresh start. So, I'm giving you back your wand and asking if we can start over."_

_He put the wand in Draco's hand, then shocked him by curling his fingers so they closed around it. His hand was warm and dry, and a shiver ran the length of Draco's spine._

_Draco stood there, hand clasped around his wand. He stared at it and swallowed deeply. After a few moments, he nodded._

_Potter smiled widely and turned to leave._

_Draco grabbed his arm and turning him around, quickly pressed a kiss to Potter's full, chapped lips. There was a moment of suspended time, where they seemed to float in a bubble completely removed from anything that had come before. Not the trial, or the war, or Hogwarts. There was nothing but the two of them, for that moment of time, sharing the very air they breathed. Draco was intensely aware of the way Potter's mouth felt against his, the small gasp against his lips, the heat that seemed to rise from his body. And Draco had been cold for such a long time._

_Potter jerked back, his eyes wide and his lips parted. He stared at Draco for a long moment, then turned and swept from the room as if the hounds of hell were on his heels._

_Draco couldn't help but notice that, for just a moment, Potter had kissed him back._

That was the last time Draco saw Potter until he walked into his salon eight years later. 

As soon as Potter was out of the salon and past the doorway, Draco entered the reception area.

"Oh Monsieur," Simone began. "You will never guess who was just in here!"

"I saw him, Simone. Please send an invitation for an appointment to Ms Hermione Granger in London. And stipulate that only Mr Potter is to accompany her."

Simone's eyes widened in surprise. "Yes, Monsieur," was all she said.

****

Harry stormed into his office, tossing his robe on the coat rack inside the door and sitting heavily at his desk. "Damn! ' I'm sorry, but monsieur does not meet with just anyone.' he said in a poorly executed French accent.

He ran his hands through his hair. How was he going to tell Hermione that any chance she had of getting a dress from this guy was gone?

He sat quietly for several minutes, debating the best way to tell her when there was a knock on the door jamb. 

"Sorry to interrupt, boss," one of his field agents said. "But Kingsley's been looking for you and he's mad as a hornet."

Harry pushed back, happy with the reprieve he'd just been given. He hopped up and clapped Conrad on the shoulder as he passed. "That's his usual state. He probably just forgot I requested some personal time this morning." 

When Harry returned to his office it was with an armload of reports that Kingsley wanted him to review. He'd just opened the first folder when Hermione came rushing through the door.

"I don't know what you did," she said, a bit breathless "but…"

Harry interrupted her. "I tired, Hermione, I really did. I even went there in full dress uniform _and_ I played the 'Harry Potter, Saviour' card." He looked at his desk. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" she shrieked. "Why are you sorry?" She waved an envelope in the air. "This was just delivered by international owl post!"

"What is it?" Harry asked cautiously.

"It's an invitation to Le Paon Blanc!" She practically radiated with excitement. "I don't know how you did it, but you're amazing!" She bounced to his side and leaned over to give Harry a hug. 

"Well, wow," he stammered. "That's brilliant! When is your appointment?"

"Our appointment is next week, Tuesday." 

"I don't need to go with you, Hermione. You have the appointment and I'm sure one of Evan's sisters would be much better at this sort of thing."

Hermione stepped back, hands on her hips. "I can't take one of them. The invitation specifically states that both of us have to be there for the appointment."

"Let me see that." Harry held out his hand. "Oh that can't be right. Why in the world would I have to be there?"

"I have no idea, but if the wizarding world's premiere bridal designer wants you there with me, then you'll be with me." 

Harry knew that tone. Whether he liked it or not, he was going back to Paris on Tuesday.

****

Hermione and Harry stood outside Le Paon Blanc early Tuesday morning. The building was still nothing to look at, but Harry had explained that to Hermione, so she wasn't too surprised.

She stepped up to the door and said, "Hermione Granger and Harry Potter for an appointment at ten, please."

The door buzzed and they walked in. Simone was sitting at the desk, smiling at them both. 

"Welcome back, Monsieur Potter and welcome Mademoiselle Granger. We are very pleased to have you here. If you'll just have a seat in the waiting area, I will let Francine know that you have arrived."

She turned and spoke into a small box on her desk. A few moments later, a very tall woman with a pile of brunette hair hurried over on robin's egg blue, pencil thin heels. She was dressed in a crisp white blouse and tight leather skirt. 

She held out an elegant hand. "Monsieur, Mademoiselle. Welcome to Le Paon Blanc. It will be my pleasure to assist you today. If you'll follow me, we'll go into the showroom first. While you're looking at some of our original creations, I will be selecting a few dresses for you to try on."

They followed Francine down one of the halls by the reception desk into a much larger room. There were cases with diamond and gem stone accessories, as well as several shelves with crystal glassware and bowls. 

Hermione was drawn to the crystal. "Harry," she said excitedly, "look how lovely! They all have peacock feathers etched into them. It makes them marvelously elegant, doesn't it?"

Harry smiled at her enthusiasm and watched her wander over to the jewelry case. The showcase piece was a stunning piece that wrapped around the neck with one side forming the tail and the other side the head. The tail was designed in intricate v-shaped rows of diamonds with larger accent diamond at the ends. The sapphire head curved down to meet the larger sapphire tear-drop that formed the body. The matching earrings made it a gorgeous set.

Hermione was just about to reach the case when Francine called to them from the adjoining room. "If you would come with me Mademoiselle Granger and Monsieur Potter, if you would have a seat over there," she gestured to the sofa on her left, "we shall be back shortly with the first gown."

Hermione giggled as she followed Francine to the dressing room. 

The first two gowns, in Harry's opinion, were disasters. The first one was what Francine had called a mermaid style. The dress looked like it had been sucked on to Hermione's body from the bodice to her knees. At her knees it flared out into a poof of fabric and a train that was so long everyone would be tripping over it. The second dress was even worse. This dress wasn't nearly as revealing as the first, because really no one, including him needed to know that much about Hermione's body! But the damn thing was covered in feathers. 

"So what do you think, Harry?" Hermione asked, twirling so he could see front and back of the dress. 

"It's a lot of feathers," he said weakly. "It's a really nice dress, but you sort of look like you're going to molt."

Hermione rolled her eyes. 

"Mademoiselle is quite petite," Francine interjected. "Perhaps something not so 'eavy."

Hermione nodded and returned to the dressing room.

****

Draco had been watching from the moment the pair had entered his salon. He had purposely selected the first two dresses, knowing that neither of them was truly suited to Granger's frame. He'd known the moment it was clear that Granger was the bride which dress would be perfect for her.

He waited for Granger to come out in his selection, not afraid to admit he was a bit nervous. 

He watched her walk into the viewing room and released his breath in relief at Potter's reaction.

****

Harry waited on the couch, sipping at a glass of Perrier. He was beginning to think this entire trip had been one big waste of time. Sure the dresses had been nice, but they'd seen nice dresses at the shops closer to home. Why pay so much for a dress just because of the name?

When Hermione walked out, every doubt Harry had about this mysterious designer vanished. He might not be the most fashionable dresser, but even he knew this dress was magical. The bodice was very fitted, but in a stylish way, with jewels sewn onto the top. And while they were only right by her chest, they gave the dress a classy look that Harry knew Evan would approve of. There was a thin jeweled belt that circled Hermione's tiny waist and sat above the soft tulle skirt. 

"You look incredible," Harry told her. "Evan is going to stop breathing when he sees you walk down the aisle in that dress."

Hermione twirled, watching as the skirt floated about her legs. "Well let's hope he doesn't do that," she laughed. "I'd like to actually marry him."

"I was beginning to worry, after the first two dresses," Harry told her. "But now... That dress looks like it was made for you. You look amazing."

Draco took a deep breath and stepped into the viewing area, walking a slow circle around Hermione, studying the fit of the gown, the draping of the fabric. "Of course it does," he said, proud his voice remained steady. "I don't do anything substandard."

Granger stood, mouth open for several seconds before she regained her composure. "Malfoy?"

Potter appeared equally shocked. He looked around the viewing room and into the salon. "Well I'll be damned. Of course. White peacocks! Le Paon Blanc!"

"Well done, Mr Holmes," Draco retorted, but softened the sarcasm with a dip of his chin as he glanced at Potter.

"Malfoy, you?" Hermione struggled to speak. "You're the famous designer everyone wants?"

Draco gave her a courtly bow. "The one and only, and at your service."

"This is where you've been all this time?" Potter asked, studying his face.

"It's a long story and one that might be best told after Ms Granger's fitting is completed," Draco's voice was quiet. "That is if you'd still like the dress, knowing I'm the one who designed it."

Hermione tilted her head and looked at him quizzically. "Why in the world would that make a difference? This dress is everything I've always wanted and more. I feel like a fairy princess in it." She looked at herself again in the floor length mirror. "Of course I want it. Now get over here and start doing what you need to do." She paused. "Please."

[](http://s128.photobucket.com/user/sarcasticprof/media/Hermionedress_zpse94f57fa.jpg.html)

 

Draco looked from Hermione to Potter. "Still quite the bossy one, isn't she?"

Harry laughed. "You have no idea."

****

It took nearly forty-five minutes for Draco to do everything necessary for the dress to be made to Hermione's exact measurements. Where Harry had been bored to tears at the other salons, now he found himself completely immersed in the process. Well in Draco anyway.

Harry was mesmerized watching Draco's long, slender fingers as they moved over the dress, amazed that each _pinch_ of his fingers and swish of his wand made the dress fit even better. Before long, Harry began to imagine those slender fingers sliding over his chest. He shifted in his chair, surprised to see Draco watching him intently, as if he’d read his mind. There was a world of desire telegraphed by that searching look.

Harry was about say something when Draco turned to Hermione. "I think I have everything done that’s needed. It should take about six weeks for the dress to be ready for a fitting. When is the big event?"

"The middle of September," Hermione replied, stepping carefully down from the measurement podium. "We have plenty of time. I would like to go back to the showroom, once I'm out of this. You have so many exquisite pieces, I'll be selecting several for the reception."

Draco nodded. He looked at Harry for a brief moment before turning to follow her. "Francine, be sure to show Mademoiselle Granger the sapphire and diamond necklace and earring set. I'm quite certain it is perfect for her."

Harry rose and hurried after Draco, touching his shoulder gently to get his attention. Draco stopped and turned. They stood, looking at each other. 

"Eight years," Harry said softly before leaning in and brushing a kiss against Draco's lips. He pulled back, waiting, eyes searching. When Draco didn't move away, emboldened, Harry wrapped his arm around Draco’s waist and covered his mouth with his own. Harry let his tongue brush across Draco's lips, pleased when they opened in response. Draco pressed forward, fitting his body into Harry’s, their chests pressed together. Harry sighed and slid a hand up Draco's back until it cradled the back of his head, fingers twining in the soft blond hair. 

Harry sought out Draco's tongue and sighed when Draco's wrapped around it, sucking greedily. The kiss began to grow in passion until Harry ended it with a nip to Draco's lower lip.

"I think that’s about all I can take without a comfortable horizontal surface nearby," he said, breathless.

Draco pressed his forehead against Harry’s shoulder. "Finally found your bollocks, I see," he teased. 

Harry laughed. "I've found them pretty useful over the years."

"Good to know. I find myself hoping you haven’t worn them out," Draco retorted. 

Harry pressed his erection against Draco's leg. "I'm fairly certain they've got several good years left on them."

Draco lifted his head and smiled. "I would certainly hope so."

"Have some plans for them, do you?"

"Unless you plan on running again," Draco said hesitantly.

"Not this time." Harry's tone was serious. "Can I interest you in dinner?"

"If that's your only offer."

"Let's start with dinner and see where it goes," Harry said with a laugh. He shook his head. "You never will stop challenging me, will you?"

"As if you'd ever want me to," Draco said. "Now let me go and tend to my client and then we can discuss dinner." Draco left the room, and Harry watched his shapely arse until he disappeared from sight.

Harry smiled, adjusting his hard cock in his trousers. One thing he knew for sure, he thought. He wasn’t sure where they were headed, but if Draco stayed in his life it would never be boring.

Epilogue

Harry crossed the room, taking Hermione's hands in his. "You're the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen."

She went up on her tip toes and bussed him on the cheek. "Don't make me cry. My makeup is perfect." 

Harry held her hand as he twirled her in a circle. "Everything is impeccable. And Draco was right, that diamond and sapphire peacock necklace is the perfect touch."

"How is it that Muggle poem goes?" The deep voice came from behind them. "Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue?" Draco came sauntering into the room and bumped Harry’s shoulder to move him out of his way. "I believe this is exactly what you need for the _something borrowed_." 

He removed the small pearl comb that held Hermione's veil and spent a few minutes fussing over it. When he was done, he flipped the veil onto her back and settled a small, platinum tiara on Hermione's head. The veil fell gracefully from the back of the tiara and floated nearly to the floor. He took Hermione's hand and led her to the mirror. "It was my mother's," he said softly. "I didn't think anyone could look as lovely in it as she always did, but I was wrong."

Harry came up behind Draco and wrapped his arms around his waist. "You do good work, Demetri Monfort." 

"Of course I do. And don't muss me." Draco replied, turning into Harry arms and kissing him softly. His mouth ran across the dark stubble that never seemed to go away, even moments after Harry had shaved, settling close to Harry's ear he whispered. "Until later."

Harry smiled.

Finis

**Author's Note:**

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